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I am alive again
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I kept the inner workings,
kept the plastic furniture
while it cracked
into multidimensional bones.
I kept (in part),
the whir of its mirroring mind.
Of course, the viewer has dimmed out
nothing in the camera fully develops,
yet images emerge.
I can catch the blurry taillights of stars,
find my way through a long-burnt corn field,
photograph photographs
yet to be imaged.
Ever since it came to me
my Nikon has been doing stupid things.
It has hung from cliff edges
just to capture an image of a small lizard
I could have photographed in my backyard.
Its gazed at clouds until imagined
dragons chased swans over the heavens
knowing all the while
that its viewfinder was triggering me.
It grew heavier on my neck
demanding I follow it into spiky brush
searching for a miniscule insect
that no one cared a damn about.
Once I fell into a creek trying to snap a heron.
I swear I heard that Nikon shutter click
just behind my floundering head.
I kept its funnel-cloud eyes.
I kept the inner workings.
Kept the plastic furniture
while it cracked
into multidimensional bones.
I kept the whir of its mirroring mind.
A shutter undrapes shadows.
A shabby couch on a dusty porch,
still plays bluegrass though
a fish-eye lens.
Dancers in Beijing seep
out of digital skins.
Of course the viewer dims,
nothing in the camera fully develops,
yet images emerge.
I can now catch the blurry taillights of stars,
find my way through a long burnt corn-maze,
photograph photographs
yet to be imaged.